


Tyger Tyger

by elevenoclock



Category: Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenoclock/pseuds/elevenoclock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A tiger, Poppet?" Bailey asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tyger Tyger

**Author's Note:**

> Written in under 20 minutes for the photo challenge at The New Pub (thenewpub.livejournal.com).

As the twenty-first century dawns over the Circus, like background music that they hear out of the corner of their mind and then dismiss as unimportant, Poppet acquires a new cat.

This fact would be trivial in and of itself, except for the part where the cat is orange and striped and not your average tabby. Bailey sees it, sighs, and gives Widget a mournful look. Widget just shrugs; clearly, he's already tried and failed.

"A tiger, Poppet?" Bailey asks.

"She was being mistreated by her owners," Poppet says. "And besides, she likes you."

This is, unfortunately, true. The tiger cub is currently purring, winding its way between Bailey's ankles. Bailey looks down at the cat. The cat looks back at him, wide yellow eyes unblinking. Bailey looks over at Poppet. Poppet stares back at him, pleading silently.

"Fine," Bailey says.

But something strange happens after this. Instead of joining Poppet and Widget and their acrobatic cats, the tiger (named Blake by Bailey, simply called Tiger by Poppet, who doesn't have a fondness for naming animals) takes instead to following Bailey around the circus. Patrons pause and smile at the sight of the circus owner, dressed in his usual black suit, walking through the tents with a tiny splash of orange color following at his heels.

As the tiger ages (and Bailey does not), it becomes a star of the circus in its own right. The _reveurs_ will often reach out, brushing fingers against the soft fur, while newcomers to the circus will stare in awe and a bit of fright at the apparently-tame cat, wandering without a leash of any kind.

On cold nights, Blake will join Bailey in his tent, curling up on the foot of his bed, his head resting on Poppet's feet and his tail curled around Widget's calf, keeping Bailey's legs warm.

"You're welcome," Poppet says one day, years later (and no time at all).

Bailey smiles at her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and tangling his free hand in the fur of Blake's neck. "Thank you," he says.


End file.
